Picking Up the Pieces
by AllYouNeedIsLove67
Summary: They both made unforgivable mistakes. A year later, all that was left to do was pick up the pieces.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: S.E. Hinton owns just about all of this.

**This is a very much needed rewrite, I hope all of the readers that read the original will like this version as well.**

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I knelt down in front of the all-too-familiar fountain, remembering that night. It was the night I held down that small little greaser in the fountain. It also happened to be the night one of my good friends died. I couldn't believe it had only been a year from when Bob, Randy, a few other guys, and I were in that exact spot.

I was staring at the fountain when, I got an eerie chill down my back. I must have hallucinated because it seemed like Bob was there—lying on the ground. Dead. For that moment, I could just picture blood pooling out of him clearly. After shutting my eyes tightly to get the image of Bob out of my head, I decided I was glad I ran. If I had stayed there longer I would have more of those haunting memories that popped up whenever I drove by that park—or any park. I definitely couldn't bear anymore memories from that night. It's always going to be the worst night of my life.

"_Give the kid a bath, David," Bob had told me. The kid tried to run, but I caught his arm, twisted it behind his back, and shoved his head in the fountain. He was fighting pretty hard, but even really drunk, I was much stronger._

_At the time we thought it was pretty funny, a little greaser kid flailing and gasping for air. As we watched and laughed, he slowly he fought less and less hard. We were paying so much attention to the kid in the fountain that we completely forgot about the dark haired one. If we weren't so drunk, we probably wouldn't have forgotten about him. And if we didn't forget, the greaser wouldn't have had the chance to stab Bob. He wouldn't have died. _

_I got a look at Bob lying there, but I urged Randy, Henry, and Roger to run back to the car. We all ran to Randy's car after that, leaving Bob to bleed out on the cement._

Once, I tried to go to visit the kid who killed Bob at the hospital, just to take a peek. The kid looked awful and he was burnt all over. He actually looked worse alive then Bob did dead. Just looking at him for a while, my thoughts wandered and I got madder than hell. The kid killed my friend—that _greaser_ killed my friend. My friend that was captain of the football team, the heir to an oil fortune, and president of our debate team, was killed by some no-good JD. I couldn't just beat up some kid in the intensive care unit, so I walked as fast as I could out of the hospital. I was glad the rumble was that night. I blew off all the steam I needed to and only got mildly injured. I bruised my knuckles breaking a couple of this guy with curly hair's ribs.

I read in the paper that night of the rumble, the kid that killed Bob died. As I saw his condition in the hospital, I wasn't surprised, but I did feel a bit of remorse which I didn't think I'd get.

My thoughts were interrupted by a, "Hello?"

"Oh, um, hello." I turn to look up at a blonde girl who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. I definitely wasn't expecting any visitors that day.

"You-you're a S-soc," she stammered, blushing a bit.

"I haven't been called that in a while, but I suppose." I'd forgotten that on that side of town that was all I was. Not a person, just a Soc.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that," she said, dropping her gaze down to her scuffed shoes.

"That's fine. It's what I get for spending too much time on this side of town. I was just trying to remember a friend of mine. He died, right here a year ago." I gestured down at the fountain and surrounding area.

"Wait, you were that dead kid's friend? I mean…I'm sorry. Bob was his name?"

"Yeah, he was a good friend of mine. You know his name?" I noticed her eyes were sort of china blue. I wouldn't have noticed, but her eyes were big and shiny from crying, which, I could tell she had done prior to talking to me.

"Mhm hm." She nodded quickly and we made eye contact for a few seconds. Shortly after though, she uncomfortably turned away. "I never met him, but I heard about him." She bit her lip. "My boyfriend or, well, ex-boyfriend was in the same gang as the boy, Johnny, who… You know." She sighed loudly. "Johnny was the one who killed Bob. He was a sweet kid when I talked to him though."

"I only know him as a killer," I snapped at her. She frowned and stepped back. I found further evidence she had cried and I seemed like if I raised my voice anymore, she'd break down and start bawling.

"Look, I feel bad about Bob, okay? I'm sorry. I didn't know Johnny or Dallas that well. Try to understand, Johnny wasn't normally like that! He was trying to defend his friend, my boyfriend's brother! So don't think of Johnny like that. You were there; you knew Bob was drunk when he was killed."

"We were all drunk. I don't fucking even remember how we got there. I only remember that the smaller kid had a pleading look on his face because he couldn't breathe and the image of blood just _flowing_ out of Bob's stomach…" I stopped speaking due to the headache that came out of nowhere. I don't even know why, but all the memories were coming back. For a while I thought I hated that Johnny kid, but I didn't. It kind of touched me that a girl that barely knew the kid was sticking up for him even one year after his death. I wished that people in our neighborhood would do that. Maybe Randy or Roger would, but Henry or even Bob, who everyone made out to be an angel after he died, wouldn't.

"I'm sorry." She looked down. "I ain't a saint either, though. 'Hope you know that. I didn't even know Johnny all that well. But, we were greasers. And when you're a greaser, you stick together. No matter what." She looked up and managed a half smile. "Oh, uh, the name's Sandy, by the way."

I automatically held out my hand and said, "I am David," but as I started to say my last name, I turned away and slid my hand into my pocked. "… but you just have to know, over on my side of town there isn't really any sticking together."

"Yeah, maybe on your side of town, there's not. But greasers used to…I don't know if I'm still part of that. I screwed up real bad a year ago. I lost everything. I doubt anyone in this town—even my parents—want to speak to me." I strongly doubted her parents wouldn't talk to her. At the time, I was convinced my parents would eventually forgive me no matter what I did. I had no idea about greaser parents, though.

"It couldn't have been that bad. I mean you didn't almost kill someone."

"No, but I hurt someone I loved terribly. A lot of people, actually." Sandy kept wiping tears before they fell and her eyes were getting red and puffy. I felt pretty bad because she was really beating herself up.

The curiosity was growing inside me. I really wasn't used to being out of the loop, so, I asked, "I hate to impose on your personal business, but what_ did_ you do?"

What could she have possibly done? I ruled out that she was a murderer or a thief. But looking at her, I knew it was something horrible. She really didn't want to tell me anything, but I think I made her feel obligated to. Part of me felt kind of bad for making her remember, but all I wanted at the time was to know what in the world that girl did.

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**Note from one of the authors: **We'd like to dedicate the story in it's entirety to the people of Greaser Gangs & Social Clubs for helping us form Sandy and David. I would like to dedicate this chapter to my co-author on her birthday and the victims of the 9/11 attack.


	2. Chapter 2

** (A/N)-We don't own the Outsiders. And another note- we are going to be changing POVs every other chapter. Odd numbered chapters will be in David's POV, and even will belong to Sandy. Here's Chapter Two of Picking Up the Pieces (revised)! So review and enjoy.**

**Sandy POV**

The boy in front of me was David. David. I liked that name even though I knew about three hundred and eighty-two other Davids. I was very drawn to his eyes too. When you looked at them, you could tell that he was just as broken as I was, but you could see there was strength in them. Right then, David's eyes had just the amount of the strength I needed. It was a silly thought to be thinking less than fifteen minutes after meeting him, but I didn't really care.

As for me, I was falling apart at the seams. My hair was messed up, my make-up was most definitely running, and I was sobbing uncontrollably. Before all this, I never used to cry that easily. But I think I'd cried more in those past few months than I ever have in my entire life. I just didn't want to tell David about my baby. It wasn't his business, and anyway, we traveled in different circles. The last thing I needed was some Soc spreading rumors even farther than they already were. But I told him anyway — why I'll never know — but I did.

I tried holding back my tears. "My parents sent me to live with my grandmother, down in Florida. That's why I was gone. Why nobody ever saw me… you know — with child." I breathed out slowly. "After I had the baby, my parents told me I had to give the baby up for adoption." I burst into tears, the walls finally breaking. "I never even got to hold my own child! They told me that my baby was a boy, and then the doctors took him away, and…I have no idea why I am telling you all this, I…" I opened my mouth, but the sound just wouldn't come out.

While my eyes were blurred from all the tears, David slowly put his arms around me and held me tight. I probably should have been scared that he would try something, but I just felt so oddly safe, weak, and tired that I didn't bother pulling away. "It's okay, Sandy. The parents of your baby probably love him very much, I'm sure they're happy for what you did. It was best for him."

I stepped away from David, breaking our hug. "Sorry," I whispered so David couldn't hear me.

He cleared this throat awkwardly. "Well, I should get going. Good luck with everything, Sandy." He looked back at his car, then back at me again. David leaned in to give me a quick hug, but I quickly shifted uncomfortably. David seemed to get the message, and gave a little wave. "Goodbye, then."

"Bye." I gave a little wave, smiling in spite of myself. My mind whispered, _Don't leave, not yet_, but I shoved the thought to the back of my mind. Even thinking that made me feel so disgustingly desperate for _someone _to be nice. I wasn't even sure I cared that David was probably going to go home and have a laugh about me and my pitiful problems. As he started off, I wrapped my sweater tightly around my body. I wasn't quite ready to leave.

"Sandy! Is-is that you?" I whirled around, only to see Sodapop Curtis, my boyfriend before I had my baby and his best friend, Steve Randle. I froze up at the sight of them and I'm fairly sure I stopped breathing for a few moments. "Hi, guys…" I looked them in the face and burst out the phrase that no one has ever believed, "It's not what it looks like!"

Steve barked a laugh. "Not what it looks like? You ruin the best thing that ever happened to you," he pointed at Sodapop. "And then go after some rich Soc to take care of you because no one else will? 'It ain't what it looks like.' I'm _sure_ it's not."

Sodapop looked like he was feeling ten different emotions at once, and couldn't get them all out. He managed to say, "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Florida."

I looked at Steve, my mouth open. "No! It's not like that…You don't honestly think I would…"

"Oh, but I do, Sandy." Steve looked at me with such distain that my throat tightened and I couldn't speak to him anymore.

I looked back at Sodapop, then down at my feet. "I _was _in Florida. I went to live with my grandmother, I had a baby, and then came back to Tulsa.

"Oh yeah?" Steve sneered. "Then where's the baby?"

"I gave him up… for adoption," I choked out before Steve interrupted me in a rage.

"Adoption!" Steve howled, venom dripping from his teeth. "Is that how much of an irresponsible bitch you are? You can't even take care of your own child? Your own mistake?"

"Don't you talk to her like that!" David yelled. I hid my face with my hands. _David, please don't…_

"Who the hell do you think you are, buddy?" Steve snarled. He grabbed his knife from his back pocket. "I think you better watch what you say, pal." And I completely lost it.

"You wanna know somethin', Steve?" I sniffed. "I wasn't given a choice whether I could keep my own child or not! My parents— who can't be bothered to support me, even a little bit, forced me to give my son to somebody else!" And it was true. Neither my parents nor my grandmother had even _considered _asking me if I wanted to keep my own son, or have it "taken care of" or anything like that… Well, I wouldn't have done that anyway; I hate the very idea of it but quite honestly, I really did want to keep the baby…Soda had offered to marry me after I told him, and I would've if I could, but I made the mistake of telling my parents before Soda. They whisked me off to Florida before I could say a single word in my defense.

Of course, right then Steve offered some "words of wisdom." "And ya know what? That's why you hold on to something you love. You had everything you could ever want right here!" Steve pointed towards Soda. "Sodapop loved you! He wanted to marry you, dammit! And you…you had to go and fuck it all up! You went and slept with some other guy, and messed up your whole fuckin' life. You..." Steve spit on the ground and wouldn't look at me. David said something to him; I forget exactly what it was. I was trying to keep myself from breaking down again. Steve's face flushed an even deeper shade of red then it was before, glaring at David.

"And even if it ain't my business, I'll make it my business. And I don't exactly think it's any of your business, either, bud."

I started getting real mad at Steve, and for a minute, I tried to fight back. "Sodapop wanted to marry me! I-I panicked. I went out one night, and met some twenty-three-year-old greaser. At least he told me he was twenty-three...Aw hell! I didn't even know his name! We both drank a lot more than we should have, and…And it really _isn't_ your business, Steve!" I cried. Steve whirled on me, fire in his eyes, then shook his head and looked back at David.

"I have a lot more in this than you do, buddy. How long have known this broad? Like, fifteen minutes? Sodapop dated Sandy for about a year— more! And me and Soda have been best buddies since grade school. So if you were smart, you could see this _is_ my business. And if you were even smarter, you would get your ass outta here. Right now!" Steve yelled at David.

Ignoring Steve, David cocked an eyebrow at Sodapop. "And you? Married? At fifteen? Sixteen?"

I heard Soda mumble something about us bein' almost seventeen when we were dating.

"And that just goes show how immature you are! Getting drunk and fucking another guy!" Steve hissed at me, shaking his head. "If this had happened to Soda and you, Soda would have actually taken some responsibility! And speaking of which…"

"Speaking of _what_?" I asked angrily, my throat tight from trying not to burst out in tears.

"Where's the baby's father?"

"He's…" I froze. To be honest, I had no idea where that greaser was. I didn't even remember his name. I'm not totally sure that he even told me his name. For all I knew, he could be in jail, or dead, or in some other town, or right down the street. "See, we got in contac-touch while I was in F-Florida, and he told me he was leaving for…Santa Fe?" I offered. It was the best story I could think of.

Steve, Soda, and David all looked unimpressed. I sighed. "Okay, so maybe I don't know where he is…at all. What does it matter?" I was startled by just how stone cold my voice was when I said, "What's done is done." I felt terrible saying it, but it was true. The baby will never know me or his father, and the baby's father will never know me or his son.

Steve, who obviously didn't agree with me, spat on the ground, and advanced forwards, and for a minute he looked as though he was about to slap me. I jumped back, expecting the hit to come at any moment. It never came.

When I looked up, I saw Steve's face twisted with fury. David and Sodapop were staring each other down. Soda turned on David. "Now listen here, you talk to me or Steve like that again, and I swear to God, I'll-"

"You'll _what_?" David countered.

Steve hollered, "You want to start a fight, Socy boy?"

"Okay." He breathed heavily. "I think we all need to calm down before someone gets hurt. Sandy, do you need a ride home?" I almost thought it was Sodapop asking at first, and I opened my mouth to decline, when I realized it was David who offered to take me home.

"Are you kidding me? You just met this bitch, and then you want to take her home? She just had a baby, god dammit!" Steve looked horrified at me and David. "Where ya gonna take her, you scumbag? Your backseat or your mansion?" David did nothing— just stood there, shocked at what Steve was implying.

Before I knew what was happening, Steve whipped around and punched David in the face, leaving David lying face-down on the ground.


End file.
